


A Dead End in Despair

by Mersheeple



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28761114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mersheeple/pseuds/Mersheeple
Summary: Hermione visits a friend, the son of a former teacher, to discuss things she should not have seen.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	A Dead End in Despair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thayz_phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thayz_phoenix/gifts).



> This came out of nowhere from a prompt that I ADORED...not quite what I thought it would be but, nonetheless, I really love it.
> 
> The OMC is a character I have always imagined but never actually used in a story before...lol

Hermione Granger looked around her, staring out to sea with tears in her eyes, the salty tracks proof she had been crying too long. She picked a pebble from the beach, holding it tight in her hand and whispering a spell of her own creation, carving a delicate pattern into the hard stone. She opened her hand and stared at the pattern that had been carved. A pattern of flowers that she vaguely recognised stared back at her, the jet black crystalline forms caused by carving the flowers twinkling in the sunlight. She smiled as the shimmering light picked up an extra carving she hadn’t noticed, a tiny snake that appeared to be curled through the flowers tall stems.

“Thinking of my sire again, Miss Granger?” The voice was too close and she cursed, turning around to see the only man who could still walk behind her and surprise her. He raised an eyebrow at her and she shook her head, smiling slightly.

“How many times must I ask you to call me Hermione, Connor?” He held his arm out to her and, with a soft smile in his direction, she linked her arm with his. He touched his hand to the pebble in hers and whisked them away to his secret-kept home. No one knew where he lived or even who he was. He had chosen to stay away after the War, a War he had never fought in. A War that meant more to him than anyone would know.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, it just doesn’t rattle you as much.” Connor laughed at her and she smiled, shaking her head with affection. The cottage in front of her was larger than Shell Cottage but, except for that, it looked the same. The garden was planted with the same flowers on her stone carving and she smiled sadly as she realised the significance.

“They’re Lupins aren’t they?” She gestured at the flowers, their array of purples and pinks a colourful contrast against the greyish colour of the beach she knew was just over the ridge of dunes beside them.

“ _Lupinus Polyphyllus_ , yes.” He nodded towards the cottage and, if Hermione had properly looked, she might have noticed the shadow that moved inside across the windows of the downstairs.

“They’re beautiful. Are they used for anything?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, a movement she had picked up from dealing with Connor on a regular basis, though when he used it his look was reminiscent of the person she was here to discuss. The person she was always here to discuss.

“They look pretty. And they sometimes get used in an alternative to Wolfsbane that works for…well…me.” Connor shrugged nonchalantly and Hermione squeezed his arm before beginning to walk the path to his front door. He trailed behind her slightly and she waited for him to press his hand to the door and release the extensive wards. His breath against her neck sent a shiver down Hermione’s spine and he laughed softly, the smell of spearmint toothpaste assaulting her nostrils, mixing with the spicy smell of his aftershave. She stepped through the now open door and walked straight into the kitchen, flicking the switch on the electric kettle and pulling out two mugs.

“Coffee or Tea?” This was part of their ritual, had been since the day she had met Connor, and she was damned if she would ever change how it went. She needed days like this. It was how she survived.

“Coffee for me. I have your favourite tea in the cupboard, same as always.” Connor sat in his usual seat, shifting slightly as it creaked under his weight. He held himself still and taut and Hermione, as always, felt like he was waiting for something. Not just for her to start talking, but for something more. She poured the drinks, adding the required splash of milk and single sugar to both cups, in spite of the difference in beverage that they regularly drank. She placed the drinks on the table and sat down in what was kindly referred to as ‘her’ seat, despite the fact that she only visited Connor once a month or so.

“So, how have you been?” This, too, was part of their ritual and Hermione had to follow their rules of conversation. It just had to be this way.

“Not so bad. Let’s see…I’ve started creating more potions from those books you brought me last time. The Mail Orders are coming in thick and fast and no one seems to care who is making the Potions so that helps. The full moon three nights ago wasn’t as bad as they have been in the past because of the new potion I’m taking. Other than that, it has been fairly uneventful.”

“Liar.” She spoke softly but he heard her, nonetheless. She sounded accusing, a tone he was unused to hearing.

“I beg your pardon?” His voice was little more than a growl and he noticed that she categorically refused to wince away. She raised her head and pinned a direct glare at him.

“I said, you are a liar. You were seen.” He winced and she knew she had caught him. She had hoped the reports had been exaggerated, or completely wrong, but the look of shame on his face proved more than any words would have done.

“Hermione, I…I had to see him. He’s gotten so big. I had to see him.” Connor hunched in his seat and Hermione shook her head.

“Connor Lupin, you stop that right now. Honestly, you know that he is going to be getting bigger. He’s nearly ready for Hogwarts! Only a few more years.” Hermione tossed her hair behind her, forgetting that she had had it short for years and had very little left to toss. The War had ended and she had shaved all her hair off rather than trying to get a comb through it after their year on the run. Ron had immediately told her she looked like a goblin and laughed at her, right until she had smacked him with a wonderful right hook and broken his nose. That had been the end of their romantic entanglement.

“He’s my _brother_ Hermione. Ok, ok, half-brother. He is still the only family I have.” Connor looked at her plaintively and she sighed, closing her eyes.

“Don’t you think I know that? Every time I see him, I see you. I see it in his eyes, in the shape of his face. Especially when he has had stories about his father earlier in the week. You look so alike. That’s why I get asked if there is any chance Remus could have survived. We saw his body. We laid him to rest beside Teddy’s mother. We _know_ that _Remus_ is dead…” She trailed off, her emphasis revealing to him once again what she was going to talk to him about, as she always did. And then she shook her head softly, considering her next words carefully.

“The next time you want to see your brother, please, please warn me ok? I’ll…I’ll get you the things you need for Polyjuice, or hairs of someone inconspicuous. Please warn me next time ok?” Hermione was as close to begging as Connor had ever heard and he knew that there had been consequences to his actions. Consequences for her.

“I’m sorry Hermione. I didn’t think about that. I just assumed no one would notice me.” He hung his head in shame and she sighed slightly.

“Con, it’s ok. I know you didn’t do it on purpose. It’s just…Andi. She is still seeing signs of people she lost being alive and…we’re all worried for her. She’s raising Teddy alone and, even though Harry and I are trying to help as much as we can, Harry is not who he was before…everything. He lost Remus too y’know? He blames himself for all their deaths. Remus, Tonks, Sirius…even…even _him_ …and Harry didn’t even _like_ him.” Hermione’s voice caught in her throat and Connor reached for her hand, squeezing tightly.

“What happened to make you think of him, Hermione?” Connor knew this is why she came to him. He was the only person she could talk to about _him_.

“I’m going mad Con, I know I’m going mad. I…I saw him again.” Hermione stumbled over the words and she knew he heard it.

“Where? Where did you see him this time, Hermione?” Connor’s voice carried none of the disbelief that Harry’s or Ron’s or, in fact, any of her other friends would have.

“Hogsmeade. At Hildeprand’s Magical Miniature Menagerie. It’s a new shop that opened that sells models of various animals; Dragons and Hippogriffs and Thestrals and the like. They move and interact with their environment, they really are a marvel.” She sighed, her eyes sparkling at the thought of the spells and charms that had gone into the products. He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose and she flicked her head, sticking her tongue out at him. She eyes glazed over again and he prodded at her.

“Did you follow him?” She had done that once before and then been distraught when she had lost him.

“No…but I waited outside for hours. He never came out.” Her voice was small, and she frowned slightly. He sighed, taking both her hands in his.

“Hermione, tell me again what happened that day. You need to say it out loud again.” He had made her do this every time she saw him. It was wrong, it hurt her, but it had to be done.

“We arrived at the school through a passage from the Hog’s Head to the Room of Requirement. Aberforth contacted the Order and they joined us the same way. Harry faced him but it was Professor McGonagall who fought him. Except he didn’t fight. He just…shielded himself and stopped her spells from hitting him. He could so easily have killed her and yet he didn’t even truly fight.” The tears had started to well in her eyes and he knew this was cathartic for her.

“What next Hermione?” Connor pushed her a little harder, his voice dropping into a softer inflection that sounded so much like Remus that she had to look up at him to remind herself who she was speaking to. She gave him a wobbly smile and continued.

“We didn’t see him again. Not for hours. Not until we went to the Shrieking Shack. He stood with Lord Voldemort and that snake and he was so very strong and subtle and…I’d missed him. It suddenly hit me that here was a man who was strong and confident and passionate and…and I was already crying before the snake attacked. I’d spent a year in that fucking tent and I hated it and it was hell on Earth and yet…here was a man who had spent his whole life in hell and had approached his death with a calm and quiet stoicism. I just wished in that moment that I had known him better. And then…and then the Snake attacked and he was just there…left to die. And we left him. We took his memories and left him to die alone. We took an integral part of him and just left him.” Connor knew she struggled to forgive herself for the fact they had left him alone.

“Would he have wanted you to see him die, Hermione?” Connor had to be the voice of reason. It was one thing Hermione liked about him, one thing that would have convinced her that he was Remus’s son, if the looks hadn’t been enough of a giveaway when she had first met the man in front of her.

“No, not us. Anyone but us then. We should have sent someone to retrieve him. We should have gone to him ourselves. He should have had a proper burial, not an empty grave and a missing body. We should have taken better care to protect him like he protected us. We should have loved him, the way he should have been loved. I could have cared for him. I could have helped. I should have used the dittany in my bag, the anti-venom, the blood replenishers. I should have done more. Instead, I just left him and then forgot about him…” Hermione looked at Connor with teary eyes and he knew she was nearly, nearly there, nearly to the end of her confession.

“Hermione, you never forgot about him. Otherwise, you wouldn’t keep thinking you can see him.” Connor was the voice of reason; it was what he was good at. Especially in this situation. They had been doing this for five years now, ever since she had found him, bloodied and beaten, still in his wolf form, in a small cave near the cottage they now sat in.

“I know. I know. I never forgot about him. I see him everywhere. I see him when I close my eyes and then I…I miss him when I open them again. Con, it doesn’t make sense. How can I miss someone I never really knew and no longer miss my parents? I had them all to myself for nearly eighteen years and I shared him with hundreds of students for less than six full years. I know nothing about him. His home was destroyed before anyone could sort through anything of his.” She heaved a great sigh and moved to the window, tipping the dregs of her tea down the sink and rinsing her mug out before she spoke again, still staring at the sun setting over the water.

“I could have been his friend. I could have helped him and become his friend. In another time, another world, I could have saved him and become his Apprentice and learned from the most wonderful, amazing, accomplished Potions prodigy who ever existed. In another world, I could have loved him. I could have broken through to the real him, got through that mask. I could have, Connor. I could have loved him.” Connor stood, moving behind Hermione to wrap his arms around her waist and hold her in a close embrace.

“What do you mean, could have? Hermione, I have watched you and waited for you to realise this for five years. You _do_ love him. You have him on a pedestal, and you have fallen in love with a ghost. You need to realise Hermione. You can’t move on until you acknowledge it.” Connor spoke softly, his voice close to her ear and she sighed, leaning back against him.

“I have fallen in love with a ghost. No, it’s worse than that. I have fallen in love with a man who was never a ghost. I am longing for him to become a ghost. I am wishing for his portrait to animate but it never does. I’ve come to a dead end and I can’t find my way back. Sometimes he looks so real, these apparitions of him that I see, that I just want to reach out and touch him. Tell him I love him, tell him I want to be his friend, his love, his one and only. Tell him that I will cope with his mood swings and be everything he wants me to be if he will just take a chance. Take a chance on an insufferable know-it-all who knows nothing except how much she wants a chance to love him.” She turned into his arms with a sob and Connor held her, shushing her and stroking her back as she wept. He hated this bit, but it was inevitable. This time though, there seemed to be a finality in her thinking. With a sigh, she sniffed loudly and pulled away from him.

“I could have loved him so much, Connor. But I will never get that chance. And I have to stop looking for him in every dark haired, dark eyed man. I have to stop longing for him. It’s too late and I can’t have him.” She looked at him, her eyes filled with a false resolve and, giving her a half smile and a peck on the cheek, he knew she would be back again next month, probably just after the full moon again. Not to check on him, though she did that too. No, she would see him in the shadows again and tell herself that the only man she would ever love was the one man she could never have: Severus Snape, former bat of the dungeons, former Death Eater, former teacher…former person. She left the house with barely a glance back and Connor sat in her seat, staring into the hallway and waiting as the stairs creaked.

“You have to stop letting her see you. Or you have to actually be brave. You can’t keep doing this just so that you can see her every month. It isn’t normal. It isn’t natural.” A creak from the hallway let Connor know his words had met their mark.

“Do you hear me Sev? You can’t keep doing this to her.” He raised his eyes to the dark eyes of the man whose home he shared.

“I hear you, Pup. I hear you.”


End file.
